


Comfort Me As The Rain Pitter Patters

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Rainy day AU, nerd yuuri, something pure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The rain fell hard and Vicchan was oh so cold. Entwined with an odd man obsessed with Russian pop music, Yuuri finds himself given temporary shelter by Viktor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a tiny little psa: i hardly ever finish fics so heres something small and sweet that skips over time and development bc I'm lazy.
> 
> i hope you enjoy :^*

**4 May**

 

The warm weather and cloudless sky was slowly deteriorating into masses of graphite vapour, ready to split open, the hard work of the past few days let off. The sounds of the children running around clueless was drowned out by the now greyish day, not that it stopped them from calling out 'tag you're it!'. The roads were jam-packed and the streets lacked space to hold the masses of pedestrians walking back and forth. No one, not even the grey stray cat that rubbed itself against strangers legs, a silent plea for food, noticed the sunshine as it said goodbye. The individuals returning home after a long day at work held accomplishment in their eyes despite the fatigue that plagued their silhouettes and whatever was their home ran into their arms with a smile. It was that kind of suburb. The houses were painted with delicate strokes of rumours and the indecent whispers of all the words uttered behind someone's back. Living at peace with themselves, they all pretended not to notice the disarray in their hearts, the sullen feeling of lacking a healthy life and someone to love. Their life was a routine, mirrored household to household; wake up, work until your soul is fed-up, fall asleep and repeat. Although professions varied, you get the gist of it. 

 

Just five minutes away from the area built by wealth on lands fertilised by faults you'd find yourself wound up in alleyways, lost and choking on the smell of food from the various troves of restaurants all ideally situated besides each other. The flashing colours of the neon signs were heightened by the bleak skyline and the chatter between the owners of the different carts were all somehow directed at the changing weather, how they missed the rain, how the beating heat of the past few days were unbearable, you could hear the cheer in their voices even though rain meant that they'd have to close their stalls down for the day. It was easy to lose your way between the winding streets and the littered corners if you were unfamiliar to the area, somehow you always found your lost self drawn to the hidden patisserie in a secluded corner. The windows were painted with little characters all holding a different treat: sweet and savoury. Entering through the glass doors, the rich smell of Ethiopian coffee eradicated everything from the outside. Here it was just soft instrumental music playing in the background with low tables and a dusty pink cushion for you to sit cross-legged on. The patisserie was always filled with just enough customers to make the place feel cosy and not at all overcrowded. The main waiter inconveniently had his day off that day, the same day they needed him most, because as the rain came down, an uncertain number of people came pouring through the doors speaking a language that wasn't Japanese and Mari tried her hardest to recollect the different words Yuuri had taught her since he came back home from Detroit. 

 

•

 

Yuuri had only two things he wanted to accomplish today: take Vicchan for a walk in the park and then take a long, deep soak in the town's hot spring before retiring to bed. The last time he had a good night's rest was last week, his previous day off. Vicchan was mostly well-behaved as he ran before Yuuri, catching balls thrown at him and chasing the little birds that happened to fly from one tree to another. After picking up whatever waste his brown poodle left behind, he took a seat on a rusted bench on the outskirts of the park and watched as his dog pawed and played along with other dogs in the vicinity. Yuuri laughed and smiled as Vicchan rolled in mud and jumped on him, soiling the plain blue t-shirt he wore. Fidgeting and looking around and then back down, Yuuri stopped himself from laughing too much or too loud or cooing at all just in case that one lady with the blonde hair on the opposite bench would notice. Yuuri watched as the sky swapped a light blue colour for a dark, stormy one instead. He watched as the park filtered down to just him and Vicchan and then proceeded to wait until the rain started to leave because finally he was alone, finally there was no one to look at him, finally. Truthfully, that was a bad decision on his part but having something picking at you in your head, day after day alters your sense and in the end when the rain finally came down, Vicchan ran alongside Yuuri looking for someplace they could stand under until the rain slowed down to a slight drizzle. 

 

•

 

Viktor Nikiforov usually spends his Wednesdays pretending to be sick. Russian music blares through his apartment as he wildly bobs his head to the music. Coincidentally, whenever his phone rang, the ringtone went unheard and the intern at the publishing house usually exhaled a series of unattractive words on the other end of the line. The hard patter of the rain on his large windows lead to the turning up of the volume knob. Vibrations were felt by the neighbours and the man that stood at his door, water pooling around him and his dog in a stagnant puddle. 

 

_•_

 

Yuuri knocked once, then again for the second time. His dog whimpered and whined about being wet and tugged on the leash on his body. He bent down to scoop his dog into his arms. Appreciating the warmth of skin, the dog barked and licked his owner's arm. Holding his hand out, ready to knock for the third and final time, because any more than three times is a rude gesture, the lock was being unlocked and the wooden white door was opened up. 

 

"Hi, uhm, yes, sorry to be a bother, but my dog here, he uhm, he doesn't like the rain very much and your apartment was the first place that we saw where we could, uhh, find shelter. Again, really sorry to have b-" Yuuri stuttered with his head down. He didn't have the heart to look up after a soft laugh escaped from the man before him, cutting his explanation short. 

 

"Do you like Russian pop music?"

 

"My interest is piqued," Yuuri replied. 

 

And truly it was. Sure he wanted to warm himself up just a bit, but curiosity drove him and so he found many different ways to interpret whatever was unfolding before him.

 

Yuuri still had his head ducked down, his eyes not leaving his now wet sneakers. His ears were red at the tips and the skin on his fingers were wrinkled because of the moisture. The man that stood before him extended his arm and welcomed them in, muttering in a language that sounded like Russian. 

 

Half an hour later, Yuuri sat down near the kitchen countertop with a content Vicchan at his feet. The rain outside was just water and the wet clothes that clung to his figure was just cotton and polyester, not that it mattered because his hands cupped something in warm and his eyes were locked on the man swaying his hips from side to side to the vocals of Valery Leontiev. Earlier, he scrambled instinctively to change whatever he had been playing to this specific artist. He put in the effort to mention that specifically. Viktor  Nikiforov, the dancing Russian introduced himself. Captivatingly handsome. Blue, his eyes were so blue. Blue like the sky before Yuuri came running to him for shelter and not at all like the blue Yuuri had on his glasses because those were too boring. He found himself at a loss for thoughts, as if his brain had hit a wall. Everything within him was screeching _Don't compare him to things so mere, it would make him of this world!_ so Yuuri listened with an open heart to lyrics he couldn't understand, but he remembered the names Valery Leontiev; Alla Pugacheva; Slava and after a few months, he would come to remember every word they sang. 

 

The rain stopped for no one. Inconvenienced? Too bad. It did slow down, but already pavements were ladened with water and the traffic was loud yet still. 

 

Yuuri said thank you, thank you, thank you so much, thank you, Viktor, thank you. 

 

And Viktor then said, it was a pleasure having someone over, I needed company, thank you, Yuuri, thank you. 

 

Viktor passed along a bright yellow umbrella printed with little dogs on it, to Yuuri. His actions were stiff and one second too late but that didn't stop Yuuri.

 

“I owe you a coffee now,” Yuuri said with a smile. He moved a small piece of his hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. Maybe tomorrow. “I work at a patisserie slash coffee shop, pop in one day. I’ll treat you, on the house.”

 

Maybe Viktor’s eye’s lit up, or maybe they reflected the streetlights. It was the former, Yuuri believed the latter. They each waved at each other slightly and set their crooked smiles straight once the other had turned their back. Viktor shut his door and prepared a meal for himself while Yuuri curled around himself under a blanket and dreaded the beeping of the alarm that would wake him the next day.

 


	2. 2.

**10 May**

 

When Viktor walked through the doors of _Ice Castle_ , the crinkles around his eyes complimented the soft heart-shaped smile he wore. He looked warm enough with a grey jersey, dress pants and ankle boots. Mari hung his neck scarf and blue trench coat up on the coat hanger near the entrance. 

 

“Hi, I’m Hiroko. How can I help you today?”

 

“I’m actually here to see someone; Yuuri Katsuki. Do you, by any chance, know if he’s in?” Viktor replied. 

 

His efforts to keep his excitement contained were mediocre at best, he kept fiddling with the rings that decorated his fingers, most of them flashy and much too big for his slim hands. His face was warm with embarrassment, it felt as if he was doused with paraffin and someone thought it would be funny to light a match near him and watch him burn. 

 

_•_

 

Yuuri Katsuki was the on the verge of collapsing. His eyes were red and his back hunched. His feet ached with every step he took and his arms burned every time he attempted to lift them. His hair was a mess, frizzy and grey-looking with the amount of flour that ended up there and his glasses sat on his face askew. His cheeks were puffy and they were glossed with sweat. He had a frown on his face as he moved from table to table, placing and picking up dishes. His mood was brightened as he saw his mother run towards him with a smile on her face, singing, “Yuuri! Yuuri! Your friend’s here!”

 

He rubbed his palms against his black apron, picked up a menu and made his way to the corner of the room where Viktor sat, his head propped up on one of his arms. Viktor stood up immediately when he saw Yuuri walk towards him and extended one of his hands in a greeting which Yuuri pretended not to notice. Not accepting rejection as failure, Viktor pulled Yuuri in for a hug to which Yuuri stiffened and placed his arm’s awkwardly to his side. 

 

Viktor ordered a café mocha as recommended by angel boy Yuuri. To go along with that, Viktor found himself telling Yuuri to surprise him. With that, Yuuri left with a smile and returned with one even bigger, two mugs of coffee and a plate stacked high with delicacies Viktor couldn't wait to get into.

 

“Yuuri, did you know that I named my dog Makkachin after café mocha?” 

 

“You have a dog? Could I see a picture?” Viktor had Yuuri’s attention, all of it. Viktor had Yuuri’s smiles, all of it. “Also try the Imagawayaki first, it’s from a fresh batch and best served warm.”

 

Yuuri picked one off the plate and handed it Viktor. “There’s one that’s filled with a vanilla custard which is so good but this one - the one filled with azuki bean paste is a classic,” Yuuri waited expectantly on Viktor’s reaction, he liked the way his eyes widened and the adams apple, how it bobbed as he swallowed. 

 

“вкусно! (vkusno!)” Viktor said, satisfaction clear on his face. 

 

Yuuri smiled back, asking, “I’ll take that as positive feedback then!”

 

“Yes, please do,” Viktor said as he took a bite of something else Yuuri passed him, “All of this food just keeps on getting better, Yuuri! I want to be able to eat this every day of my life.”

 

“I’ll be sure to pass the compliment on to my mum.”

 

The day passed that way. Their knees bumping into the other’s as they leaned forward to try something else. They both revelled in the other’s company. Their smile’s were all secrets and inside jokes and the too long glances heated Yuuri up more than the three cups of coffee he drank. Fondness was written clearly on both their faces, blushes and insignificant brushes of fingertips as they passed each other pastries. Viktor had his head rested on his hand again, listening to Yuuri talk. 

 

“I didn't think I’d make a friend after barging in on someone so rudely like that.”

 

“I didn't think I’d be happy to have someone to listen to Valery Leontiev with me.”

 

“I actually really like her a lot.”

 

~~_I actually really like you a lot._ ~~

 


	3. 3.

**21 May**

 

Viktor’s free time was spent running to and from _Ice Castle._ It was Yuuri and the coffee and the Imagawayaki and Yuuri’s smile and the way Yuuri said ‘Viktor’ and Yuuri walking away from him with his hands on his hips because _Viktor I have work you know._ Eleven days was all it took. Eleven days and the little mole Yuuri had on his neck was haunting to look at and think about. Eleven days and Yuuri was now the most beautiful man Viktor had ever seen. Eleven days and Viktor didn't have to do everything alone. Eleven days and Viktor had a _friend._

 

_Such a good friend, with a wide smile he only shows if I’m lucky. I’m always lucky._

 

“Yuuri it’s Saturday, you can get off work early. I’ve got tickets for a movie tonight, if you’d like to come. One of my friend’s Christophe will be there too and-“

 

Yuuri, balancing a pile of dirty dishes replied, “I can’t. I’m tired.”

 

Viktor stepped in Yuuri’s way and took some of the load Yuuri carried. He smiled warmly and followed the boy into the kitchen. “I’ll carry you then.”

 

“Ah, Viktor. Don't charm me.”

 

Yuuri was washing his hands and taking his apron off and he looked beautiful whilst doing it because he always does and Viktor just looked smug with his hands crossed over his chest. “You are no match for my charm, Yuuri.”

 

“I’m coming, because it means I get to see Makkachin. Don't insult my priorities.”

 

_•_

 

Viktor dragged a flustered Yuuri and a tipsy Christophe into the cinema house on a Saturday night. The party of three ended up being the only ones in the theatre, nobody goes to watch the later shows anymore. They stood in four person queue to get snacks and watched people slowly filter out through the large doors up front. The lights were hazy, it made it difficult for Yuuri to read the small font on the menu up top. Viktor, forever kind and gentlemanly, read out the different order combos to Yuuri with a lopsided smile on his face. They ordered and paid for each of their popcorn and drinks respectively and got themselves comfortable in their seats. Empty and large and they had it all to themselves. They were early and loud, the lights bright, no attractions on screen. Bending forward to see if anyone was seated in the chair below, Yuuri placed his legs comfortably on the back of the chair in front. Viktor followed suit, except his legs were so long and he mindlessly kept on kicking Yuri’s. He was laughing and whispering and placing his hand over his heart as he  prattled along with Chris, Yuuri feeling too recent an acquaintance to interrupt a conversation that was obviously strengthened by the increase in time. Yuuri listened in, but the words were nothing, he found himself agreeing to something Viktor told him on their way there, _’If it wasn’t for that god-awful Swiss accent Yuuri, you’d mistake him for a Greek god.’_

 

Yuuri enjoyed Christophe. He was an open man with a sense of humour that paired well with the satisfactory smile he produced when talking about the pole dancing class he took. His laugh was free for all, yet Yuuri enjoyed listening in on it every time Viktor said something to probe it. The lights dimmed. The attractions began. Viktor could feel Yuuri’s eyes on him, but said nothing. Instead he lifted both his feet and placed them next to Yuuri’s. He gently kicked Yuuri’s foot, and with a little grumble, Yuuri kicked back. They didn't stop, both men biting their lips in desperation to keep their laughs in. The competition was back and forth and Yuuri ended up pushing both of Viktor’s feet right off, his entire body rotated slightly and the popcorn on his lap spilled. Yuuri apologised once, twice, thrice, again and again.

 

“I could go and buy you another one now, before the movie starts,” Yuuri suggested.

 

“Sit down, Yuuri. I know you love Star Wars, I can live without popcorn,” Victor replied.

 

Chris hushed them but the light from the screen reflecting on the smile on his face, he didn't mean it. It was more of a coax to carry on. It was a little victory dance with a cheering crowd and a group of honey-voiced singers cheering Viktor on - his face. With his green eyes, it suited him well. 

 

“Share mine,” Yuuri whispered back. Viktor pretended not to hear. Yuuri leaned in closer to his ear and whispered the two words again. When Viktor didn't reply, with words or his body, Yuuri began inching away, becoming more self-aware, returning back to a place within himself that he didn’t particularly enjoy. 

 

The credits rolled down the screen but neither of them got up to leave. Viktor, half asleep on Yuuri’s shoulder, his hand resting unknowingly on Yuuri’s thigh. He was all types of warm. 

 

Chris asked Yuuri, “Should we wake him?”

 

Yuuri didn't know. He didn't know how tired Viktor was. Or how he reacts when woken up. Or when’s his birthday. Or why his hair is so thin despite him being only 27. Yuuri didn't know if he _wanted_ to wake Viktor up, because his hair pressed against Yuri’s cheek was warm, the small, shaky breaths Viktor would breathe was warm, the small area of skin of his thigh, despite being clothed, was warm and although Yuuri was too afraid to admit it, his fingers resting in Viktor’s platinum hair was warm. He carefully removed his hand from Viktor, shifted as if they didn't sit like that for two hours and woke a groggy Viktor up who didn't sound too pleased, and not sleepy at all. 


End file.
